So You Think You Know Me?
by Jay Tee
Summary: They all thought they knew what he was thinking. He had to admit it, in recent years they hadn't exactly been wrong. This was different, though... Post OotP
1. I

The day was fairly warm, yet not uncomfortably so. Groups of people made their way through the street: kids played ball on the opposite side of the road; mothers were making their way to the local co-op and the teenage boys were eyeing up the teenage girls, who pretended not to notice but were giggling amongst themselves.

There was one teenager, however, who was not doing anything of the sort. The boy in question had come home from boarding school some two weeks previous, and as always he had looked downcast, which resulted in everyone passing him with as wide a berth as possible. After all, he was going to that school for criminal boys, wasn't he? St. Brutus' whatsits. Never could remember the name.

People couldn't help but pity him though: his clothes were nothing more than rags and hung of him; his hair was an unruly mop of black and he was hardly ever seen with a smile on his face. There was something strange about him - people thought it was because he was dangerous - but no more than four people living in the neighbourhood could point out what it was. Unfortunately for the boy, three of these people had a very hard time accepting it, and these were the people he was to live with.

Apart from the few times when he had been seen with his aunt, uncle and/or cousin, the boy was hardly ever seen outside. And it wasn't because he would disappear in a crowd, on the contrary, he was very easily spotted. His black hair, that seemed untameable, differed him from the rest of any crowd. His green eyes shone in the sunlight when you came close enough to see them, and then he had that hideous but strangely interesting scar on his forehead. A scar shaped like a lightning bolt. It was common knowledge in the neighbourhood that the poor boy had received the scar the night his parents were killed in a car crash. The manner in which he had received said scar, however, had long been a point of discussion, but after a while the neighbourhood had come to the silent agreement that some of the windscreen must have cut the peculiar shape. Why it hadn't disappeared, no one had figured out, but the discussions died out after a while.

* * *

There were very few people who really knew the boy and, unbeknown to the general public, his family was definitely not among those few. Many people, however, prided themselves in thinking that they knew how his mind worked. One of these people was now standing outside number 4 Privet Drive.

Remus Lupin smiled wistfully at the sight that greeted him in the front garden. Harry Potter was weeding the flower beds with a smile on his face. The man had not seen his one-time pupil for fourteen days, but he was not surprised. What he was surprised about, however, was the fact that Harry was now outside, looking happier than Remus had ever seen him. The boy had recently lost his godfather and Remus had expected Harry to blame himself for it, even though it was not his fault. Sirius had been one of the last and closest links Harry had to the past; to his parents. But even if it was unexpected, it was certainly an unexpected pleasure to find Harry in such high spirits.

Remus' smile faded quickly as he thought about Sirius. He himself was far from done mourning over his twice lost friend. It had been very painful, loosing Sirius together with three of his other friends all those years ago, and regaining one of them, two years ago, had been breathtaking. Now, he had lost the one he had regained once again, and this time he would not come back, Remus was certain about that.

Unfortunately, Sirius was not the only one who wouldn't come back, and Remus knew it. Many more would be lost before this was over.

'But as long as Harry lives through it,' Remus decided silently, 'it won't have all been for nothing.'

Apart from that, he could only hope the casualties would be kept to a minimum and Dumbledore would find a way to put a stop to all this soon.

With a thoughtful look on his face, Remus leaned against a lamppost, watching the person that meant the world to him do the gardening.

Seemingly unaware of his audience, Harry Potter worked on, sweat glistening on his recently uncovered back. At times, he would halt, his head in the rosebushes, and a sad and pained look would pass across his face, before he grimaced and straightened up again, his mouth twisted into a wide smile once more.

Thus the afternoon passed, until, at five fifty, a car made its way up the drive. Before his uncle had a chance to get out of the car, Harry had gone round the house, put away the gardening tools and gone into the kitchen. Oblivious to the fact that his presence was known, Remus followed his charge to the back garden silently, and then settled at the far end to watch the scene through the kitchen window. Keen eyes would have noticed a slight indent in the hedge and grass, and although Harry needed his glasses, he was the only one of the three people in the kitchen that saw it. He sighed lightly before obeying to his aunt's snapped: 'Wash your hand before you set the table, boy!'


	2. II

As the summer progressed (and the temperature rose), a new schedule became known. The first to notice the change was the group of giggling girls, and it resulted in only more giggling. The next was the group of 'eyeing up' boys, and they were _not_ pleased. On the other hand, they did wonder if they would get more attention if they followed the example. The group of kids noticed too, but they couldn't care less, whereas the mothers discussed it amongst themselves and thought no more of it.

The schedule concerned one of the occupants of number 4 Privet Drive. Had someone bothered to tell him about his new audience, he wouldn't have believed the informant. As soon as he had seen proof, however, he would've run straight into the house and not come out for the remainder of his necessary time spent there.

Harry Potter had taken up gardening. Every day, from three pm to ten to six, he would be working, usually in the front garden, and whenever he found it too hot (which was quite often), he would take of his shirt and hang it on the fencepost. There was one more person who was interested in and pleased with this new development, even if it wasn't for the reasons of the teenage groups. Remus Lupin had managed to get guard duty every other afternoon, and he was pleased to note that under the heavy clothing Harry was always forced to wear, Harry was finally keeping the meat and muscle he gained during the school year. Even better, Remus thought he noticed a slight increase in Harry's muscles as the garden work caught up with him. Remus smiled as he thought at what Tonks (who had the other afternoons of duty) would think and say about this new development.

Something that only Remus (and perhaps Tonks) had noticed, was the snow-white owl that flew out of Harry's bedroom window every third day. It was always loaded down with several letters, and Remus had been very surprised when, on his second guard, the owl had swooped straight towards him, landed on the lawn and stuck one of her legs at him so that he could remove the letter addressed to him. As he did so, he wondered how on earth the owl had found him and knew that he was sitting there: he was invisible! He decided to ask Dumbledore about it, perhaps the owl's instinctual magic were much stronger than he thought.

He rifled through the letters to search for his name. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasly, Professor Dumbledore - ah, Remus Lupin. He glanced at the name on the last letter of the pile and froze. Mr. Sirius Black.

'Sirius!' Remus was stumped, 'Harry, Sirius is dead, no longer, gone!'

A flapping of wings and something being snatched from his hands pulled him from his stupor. Hedwig took off, the letters now in her beak.

With a sigh Remus opened his letter. He would have to speak to Harry about that. However, as he read the letter, his resolve faded - he hadn't given Harry enough credit, that much was certain.

Dear Professor Lupin,

I would like to apologize. First of all for my behaviour last summer. I am sorry that I acted like such a spoilt brat, I realize that you all were only acting on Professor Dumbledore's orders and I shouldn't have questioned them.

I would also like to thank you, I don't think I ever did. Last year, as you know, Dudley and me were attacked by two Dementors. If it hadn't been for your lessons during my third year, I believe that both of us would be worse of than death. Thank you.

Now, since I have reason to believe that you will be the first to be found by Hedwig, let me reassure you that I am not writing to Sirius. The letter addressed to him is simple my three-day letter. It is one of the things I have explained in my letter to professor Dumbledore. So don't worry, I'm not going crazy. Hedwig will make sure it gets where it should.

Yours sincerely,

Harry Potter

Remus looked up at Harry's window, who incidentally stood there, looking out over the rooftops, a book clutched to his chest. Even with his enhanced sight, Remus could not read the cover, so instead he gazed at Harry's face. It looked sad, he noted, but that was no wonder. Sirius had died not a month ago. As Remus read the letter once more, he did not notice Harry's gaze change direction and come to rest exactly where he sat. A cold look of determination glinted in the emerald green eyes, before the boy turned away from the window.

As Remus settled down once more he hoped that Harry would send him a letter again soon, perhaps tonight. He'd never really had anyone to correspond with, even letters from James, Sirius and Peter had been non-existent. They'd had a few two-way mirrors set up, so they could chat whenever they wanted. Absentmindedly he wondered where those had gone, he still had his.

* * *

Anyone notice what's wrong with Remus' letter? 


	3. III

Harry stood at the window, watching as Hedwig flew out and once again handed the invisible man his letter. He knew professor Lupin was watching over him tonight, he was there every other day. On the one hand he was glad, he knew he could rely on Lupin. On the other hand he was frustrated that not even Lupin saw him fit for information on the Order.

He turned away from the window, it was hard to write letters every three days, especially in the state of mind he was in. It had worked though, not even Hermione had noticed that he didn't speak about Sirius. Oh, he mentioned the name, but never really the person.

Harry sat down on the bed and reflected on the last couple of weeks. He had been immensely grateful to the Order for their 'warning' to that Dursleys. It gave him some time to mourn over Sirius' death without them bothering him.

After spending two days locked up in his bedroom, however, he had gotten too hungry to ignore his stomach any longer and he had gone downstairs to have breakfast. He'd eaten his fill, made breakfast for the rest of the household and done the dishes. That was when Aunt Petunia came in.

'Boy! Decided to grace us with your presence, have you? Well, you can eat if you do your chores, got it? I don't care what those freaks say - you'll work for your keep. I'll be up after breakfast with a list. Now, get out of here!'

Harry had not complained and soon everything was back to normal, except for one thing: Harry could eat as much as he wanted, as soon as he finished the work.

Evenings were the worst time of day for Harry, as he had nothing to do but think. Of course his thoughts would always turn to either Sirius, Voldemort or the prophecy. He had written the apology letters during the first two days, each and every one rewritten many, many times. The letters to Lupin and Dumbledore had been the hardest: he had wanted to apologize for killing Sirius, but he knew that they would nag him until he said it wasn't his fault. So he compromised. He apologized, yes, but only in his own head did he apologize for what was his fault: Sirius' death.

Every three days, he sent Hedwig of. Each time she carried at least three letters: one each to Ron, Hermione and the Order. Other letters went to Dumbledore, Lupin, Neville, Ginny, Luna (once) and one to Flourish and Blotts. Since Hedwig had come back with a reply from the last one, Harry's evenings were filled with less misery and more studying. He had requested two books: _Occlumency for Beginners: Enter the Voids of your Memories_ and _Fighting without Wands_. Harry had also browsed through all of his Potions texts until he found what he was looking for: the Silencing Draft. He now used a home-made Silencing Draft every night.

After spending two weeks in the house, Harry was quite desperate to get outside and see some sun. Aunt Petunia was only too happy to give him enough garden work to last him at least a year.

And so Harry spent his mornings doing housework, his afternoons doing garden work, his evenings doing 'homework' and his nights waking up from nightmares. And although he wouldn't have been happy with the smile Potter put on his face every day, Snape would not have been able to criticise Harry's abilities of hiding his feelings.

* * *

Ginny was concerned: something did not feel right about this. Harry hardly ever wrote letters, let alone to her! Heck, he had written more letters than Dean, and _he_ was supposed to be her _boyfriend_! And her brother, Harry's best friend for goodness' sake, didn't even notice!

'Ron!'

'What!'

'Come here a minute!'

Ron grumbled and climbed up the stairs to her room.

'What's up, Gin?'

'How many letters have you gotten from Harry so far this holiday?'

'Um…, well, I get one every three days. It's been three weeks since end of term, so about seven, I suppose. Why?'

'Does Harry always write that many?'

'Um… no?'

'Ron! Wake up! Do I have to spell it out! Why does Harry write so many letters now? Why does he say something similar to 'I'm sorry' in every letter? Why does he sound happy at the Dursleys when he never did? Why now, when he is supposed to be grieving for Sirius!'

'Oh come on, Ginny! You're reading way too much into nothing. Harry is only writing so much because he now has the time to. He always had to do all the chores, remember? He's sorry he can't be here with us and he sounds happy because he can do what he wants for once. He is probably sitting in the park writing his next letter right now!'

* * *

Harry, however, was doing no such thing. He was, in fact, standing in the kitchen doing the lunch dishes. And for once, he was thinking fondly of Sirius. Their time together had been short, too short, but they had been mostly good times, even if it started out rough. Christmas last year, for example… _God rest ye, Merry Hippogriffs_ danced through Harry's head. Subconsciously he began humming the tune as he went outside to start his daily gardening work.

Tonks smiled as she heard the tune rise from the front garden of number 4 Privet Drive. She hadn't known Sirius for long, but he was a character. It was good to see proof that Harry was remembering him fondly.

'Remus would do well to do that too,' she thought, and then a brilliant idea popped into existence. Perhaps if Remus could hear and see this now, he would finally be able to let go of the past a little.

Tonks squeezed her earring and whispered: 'Remus Lupin, number 4 Privet Drive, invisible, now.'

A few seconds later she heard Remus' characteristic soft apparition pop.

'Tonks? Tonks! What's up?' he whispered urgently, standing close to their lamppost.

'Ssh... Listen.'

Harry was still humming the song, now and then whispering some of the words. A content smile lay on his face as he pruned the roses.

'That's how he would have wanted you to remember him, Remus. Take a leaf from Harry's book, eh?'

Remus nodded, not realising that Tonks couldn't see that. Yes, Tonks was right: this was how Sirius would have wanted to be remembered - with fondness.


	4. IV

The end of Harry's month long stay was drawing closer, as was his sixteenth birthday. Unbeknown to Harry, the Weasleys had decided that it was time for him to have a proper party. A Portkey had been organised for 8 pm on July 31st, and three Weasleys would be picking him up: Mr. Wealsey, Ron and Ginny. Their Portkey would be reactivated automatically at 8.30, leaving Harry some time to pack his trunk and say goodbye to the Dursleys. Both Ron and Ginny (Mr. Weasley too) doubted that Harry would even want to say goodbye to the Dursleys, but Dumbledore wouldn't hear their reasoning.

Harry, on the other hand, had gone about his business as usual that day. To be honest, he had entirely forgotten that it was his birthday soon and he didn't feel in the mood for it anyway. No letters had come to indicate his birthday, so why should he think it was the 31st?

At 7.30 pm, Harry made his way up the stairs to his room, as usual. He randomly pulled out a book from his trunk. Hmmm, looked like he would be studying fighting tonight.

At 8 Harry stopped his practice. Something was working against the magic surrounding the house, he could feel it. Crouching in a fighting position, Harry waited, ready to strike. He didn't have to wait long. Within half a minute three silhouetted forms materialised in his bedroom and he moved. The tallest of the three fell down with a satisfying thud. Harry was about to strike again when a voice stopped him.

'Ow! Bloody hell, what was that!'

'Ron!'

'Hey mate. Happy birthday. Couldn't give me a hand, could you?'

In fact, Harry could not, as he had just had all his breath knocked from his lungs and his vision was swamped with red.

Ron laughed as his father helped him up.

'Hey Gin, give the man some room to breathe.'

Ginny quickly stepped back, blushing furiously.

'Happy birthday, Harry.'

'Th…thanks, G…Ginny,' Harry managed to get out, still struggling to regain his breath.

Mr. Weasley looked on with a smile on his face.

'Well Harry, we've got half an hour to get you all packed up and ready to go. If you hurry that should give you enough time to say goodbye to your aunt and uncle too.'

Harry quickly picked up his book, dumped it in the trunk, closed the lid and looked up.

'Well, that's done.'

Mr. Weasley raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Harry then manoeuvred past Ginny to get to his desk, scribbled something on a piece of paper, manoeuvred back to the door, stuck the paper on the outside and looked up once more.

'And that'll tell the Dursleys that they'll have to make their own breakfast tomorrow.'

That caused Ginny to raise an eyebrow too as Harry looked round his room.

'Well, I'm ready.'

Mr. Weasley merely nodded and squeezed his wedding ring as they took hold of the rope he held out to them.

'Reactivate Portkey now.'

* * *

The four of them reappeared in Ron and Harry's room in Grimmauld Place. Unnoticed by the others, Harry swallowed - this was going to be hard.

'Right. Why don't you two help Harry settle in and I'll go tell them downstairs we've arrived.'

Harry put his trunk at the foor of his bed and looked around the room. It looked a little brighter from last year. Ron's orange bedspread was on his bed and some of his Chudley Cannons' posters were on the wall. Harry also noticed the painting of Sirius greatgreat-whatever-family-member was still there. At the moment the frame was empty. Harry turned to his two redheaded friends.

'Shall we go downstairs? I'm dying to see everyone,' he said, a smile on his face. Or anyone other than the Dursleys.

The three made their way to the kitchen, where Harry was the first to open the door.

'Happy Birthday, Harry!'

Ginny bumped into him as Harry stopped in the doorway. He turned around, instantly alert, but then relaxed as he saw her rubbing her nose, which had collided with his shoulder. The smile on his face grew and his green eyes sparkled as he stuck out his hand to her and pulled her into the kitchen.

'Sorry 'bout that, Ginny,' he said, grinning as he ticked her nose with his finger. Then he was gone, greeting everyone in the kitchen, leaving Ginny staring after him. Presents were handed to him at every stop and soon he was staggering under the weight.

'Uh, guys! Help, please?'

Ginny had been pushed out of the way by Ron and Harry's voice shook her from her stupor. Together with Ron she laughingly helped him pile the packages on the table and when they were done (and the pile was quite high), Harry stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking at the table covered in presents.

'Wow! Those are all for me?'

'What do you mean, mate? Of course they are! Come on, open up!'

Ron shoved one of the presents into Harry's hands, but Harry just stood there, eyes wide and sparkling oddly. Only Ginny heard what he said next.

'This is more than I've had in my _life_.'

Then, as if someone turned a switch, he turned to Ron.

'Ron, where's 'Mione?'

Something was not quite right in this picture, but Ginny couldn't put her finger on it. Ron meanwhile was blushing and stammering. _Hang on! Why was Ron blushing?_

'She'll be here in a couple of weeks. S...She's on holiday with her parents. W...Why?'

'No reason.' Harry had a knowing smile on his face and he winked at Ginny. _Oh!_

The evening passed without further incidents. Well, unless of course you counted the fact that Harry unwrapped about 20 DADA books from the Order, amongst other things, the absolutely humongous cake and the WWW fireworks that went of when Harry blew out the last candle. After cake a disco was set up by the Weasley twins and all of the younger people moved into the living room to dance and chat. Some of the recent graduates from Hogwarts were present, as were all the Weasleys (save Percy). Bill had brought Fleur along. Harry walked among the guests, chatting here and there, dancing for a while if he was pulled onto the dance floor. He looked every part the perfect host. Ginny stood by the drinks, watching. No one would notice if she disappeared, she thought, and she decided to do just that. As she reached the door a hand on her arm stopped her.

'Hey, Ginny. Where are you going? I thought you liked to dance. Come on.'

The hand turned her and pulled her through the dancing crowd. Ginny sighed and follower the head of purple hair that was Tonks. Looked like disappearing would be a little harder than expected.

Tonks kept pulling her through the crowd until they reached the other side of the room.

'Harry! Oy, Harry!'

'Wotcher, Tonks!'

'Ginny here needs a dance partner!'

'What! Tonks,' Ginny spluttered, 'I don't...'

Tonks turned to her.

'What's up, Ginny? Scared to dance with your former crush? Where's your Gryffindor bravery?'

Ginny turned red.

'He's not... He's not my former crush!'

Tonks grinned and gave her a push in the back towards Harry, who stuck out his hand to Ginny to lead her onto the dance floor.

'Of course he's not,' Tonks muttered, as she watched them, 'he still is.'


	5. V

The occupants of Grimmauld Place settled into a routine. A peculiarity of this routine was Harry. Every day he would disappear and from three to six pm he could not be found. It had been very nerve wracking on the first day this happened. At ten to six Mrs Weasley had called out that dinner was ready. Within a minute of the call every one not in the kitchen was looking for Harry, who had, as the clock struck six, come out of the bathroom and walked into the kitchen.

'Hmmm, that smells great Mrs Weasley. Where do you want me?'

'Anywhere is fine, Harry dear. Now, where are those kids of mine?'

'I'll get them.'

Harry walked into the hall.

'Oy! Weasleys! Dinner is served!'

Mrs Black immediately started screeching again. Harry turned to her with one eyebrow raised.

'Oh, you're still here, are you?' he asked the painting calmly, 'Well, could you kindly refrain from screeching while you're in my house?'

Mrs Black shut up at once, blinked, then started anew with extra vigour.

'Your house! What do you mean, your house! …'

'Knew it wouldn't be that easy,' Harry muttered as he pulled the curtain over the woman and went back into the kitchen.

Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Charlie and Bill rushed into the kitchen.

'Harry!' Ginny called as she sat down next to him, 'Where have you been! We've been looking all over for you!'

'You have? You should have just called out.'

'Didn't want to wake the old hag,' Charlie said as he sat down opposite the two of them.

'Who? The Screecher? You only have to pull the curtain to shut her up.'

'Yeah, and that takes about five minutes and three people. You'll have lost your hearing by then.'

Harry raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing as Mrs Weasley served dinner.

The incident was all but forgotten, but the fact remained that Harry disappeared every day at three, and reappeared again at six. The only one who found this remotely interesting after three subsequent days was little Ginny Weasley. She kept her search up, but never found a sign of Harry. She tried keeping him in her sight at three, but he would always slip away and when she looked again he was gone. At six he would turn up in the most random places. A bathroom, his bedroom, Buckbeak's room, the attic, anywhere. She wondered about it in bed until she fell asleep.

* * *

It was the sixth night since Harry's arrival. He had just woken up from an intense and rather painful meeting with the Death Eaters. Voldemort was not in a good mood as something was not going according to plan. The Death Eater who was supposed to deliver the good had undergone a particularly vicious Cruciatus Curse. Harry had to hand it to the man, he hadn't made so much as a sound as he was tortured. Something about his demeanour was familiar to Harry, but due to the mask he couldn't place a name and face to the voice.

A soft sound caught Harry's attention and he listened carefully. He got out of bed to investigate, sipping from the glass of water standing by his bedside to dislodge the Silencing Draft from his throat.

Ginny shot up from her nightmare as the door opened softly. She turned and grabbed the dim form of her mother in a tight hug. Her mother stiffened, then relaxed as she clung on.

'Ginny?'

Her mother's voice sounded slightly hoarse, Ginny noticed.

'It…it was T…Tom. He said Ha…Harry wouldn't come and sa…save me. He…he said Ha…Harry didn't think I…I was worth it.'

'Sssh Ginny. You were worth it, Ginny. Every single effort, every single scratch I got, Gin, every single scratch.'

A hand closed around her ankle as the other arm snaked around her shoulders.

'Don't ever believe anything Voldemort tells you, Gin. Whether it's as a sixteen year old or as a resurrected son-of-a… Well, just don't ever believe him, okay? You're worth so much, Ginny. So much. I'd die for you. And I will, Ginny, I will.'

Her mother sounded funny; smelt funny too. She…she smelt of…of smoke? Pine? Come to think of it, her mother's form felt funny too. And…and what had she said? _You were worth every single scratch I got, Ginny, every single scratch_. And had she said Tom's name? Her mother never got a scratch, she had been sitting in Dumbledore's office. So this wasn't her mother? Then who was it? Ron? He had gotten scratches. No, Ron didn't smell and sound like this; he wouldn't say Tom's name either. Then…then this must be… No! Oh Merlin!

Ginny scrambled back and almost fell of her bed.

'Hey Ginny! Watch it!'

Harry grabbed her and to stop her toppling of her bed.

'Harry!'

'Yeah?'

'Oh Gods, Harry! I'm so sorry! I…I…'

'What for?'

'For…for crying all over you! I thought you were my mum!'

'Huh? Oh.'

Harry fell silent and an odd expression flitted across his face. It was gone before she could identify it.

'I'll go then, shall I?'

He stood up and walked out the room, not looking back and closing the door silently behind him.

Ginny leant against the wall.

'Oh Merlin! That was embarrassing! How am I going to face him tomorrow, what is he going to think of me?'

Then she thought about what Harry had said. Did he really mean all that? And…and that he would. Would what?


	6. VI

The next morning came bright and sunny, quite opposite to her mood, Ginny thought. Her mother and most of Grimmauld's occupants were already in the kitchen, including Harry.

'Morning Ginny,' her mother greeted her, 'oh my, rough night?'

Ginny nodded.

'Well, breakfast'll cheer you up. Come on.'

Her plate was set at her usual place, next to Harry. _No, not next to Harry!_

With a sigh Ginny sat down, avoiding at all costs to look at Harry. Had she not been so determined to avoid his gaze, she would have noticed that Harry was staring fixedly at his plate, a frown creasing his brows.

After breakfast everyone went their own way. Ron went to write Hermione a letter, Fred and George had work to do at their shop, Mr Weasley went to the ministry, Charlie and Bill had something to do for the Order, Mrs Weasley stayed in the kitchen, Ginny went to her room and Harry… well Harry disappeared.

At eleven Ginny decided she'd had enough gloom: it was time to see if a little sunshine couldn't cheer her up. She stepped out the back door and into the garden. Nobody had bothered working at it, so it was muddy and overgrown. A small terrace sat in the centre, the sunlight seeping through the branches of the trees. Ginny sat down and leaned back, closing her eyes to catch some much needed sun. No sounds penetrated the silence, save one. The sound was rhythmical, like a backbeat to a song. At times it would speed up, then slow down again. After ten minutes it stopped altogether and a different sound started. Soft pops penetrated the silence, becoming a little softer each time. By the time that they were barely noticeable, Ginny had moved further into the garden to investigate the source of the strange noises.

A shed came into view, overgrown by shrubs, an old rosebush covering the front wall almost entirely. As Ginny stood still to determine whether the sounds were emitted from within, they stopped entirely. Then the first sound started once more, occasionally interjected by the pops. As before the pops became softer and softer until they could not be heard. When this happened the only sound left was that of something similar to chopping wood. It speeded up until Ginny heard something entirely different.

'Yes!'

There was a person in there!

Quickly but quietly Ginny walked the rest of the distance to the shed. She tried looking through the window, but it was grimy and she could only make out shadows in the dimly lit shed. One shadow flitted through the room, which looked much bigger on the inside than it did on the outside, Ginny noticed.

Just then a sound like a bell broke the silence.

'Wow, twelve already?' the muffled voice came, 'Lunch!'

Ginny swallowed. Oh help, what was she going to do now? She'd be seen if the person came through the door.

Quickly she scrambled around the corner of the shed and waited. And waited.

After five minutes without sound, save for her heavy breathing and thumping heart, Ginny cautiously made her way around the corner and to the window and peeped through.

Silence.

Darkness.

She tried the door.

Locked.


	7. VII

His senses were improving. It was something he had noticed happening when he started studying Advanced Occlumency, like the ability to feel the magic around him. His sense of smell had sharpened so dramatically that he could discern people by their smells alone. Ginny, for example, smelt of appleblossom - he'd noticed that when hugging her. Ron for some reason always smelt of mint with a bit of pumpkin. The twins both smelt of smoke and sugar, although Fred seemed to smell like pepper as well.

Probably due to the sweets they exploded, Harry thought.

His other senses were becoming stronger too: taste, feel, hearing. But the strangest was his eyesight. At times, usually when practising Occlumency in bed, the ceiling would swim into focus. It had become more frequent as the time passed and sometimes occurred during the daytime. He would have to take his glasses of to avoid satumbling from dizziness. It made him wonder why Dumbledore even used glasses if he didn't need them. He was a great Occlumens, right?

Another thing Harry noticed was that, as he became more skilled in Occlumency, rather than his visions from Voldemort subsided, they became much clearer. It had resulted in Harry's identification of the Death Eater who couldn't supply whatever it was that Voldemort wanted in previous visions. It also resulted in a rather important decision Harry made after this discovery.

* * *

'Albus, you can't be serious!'

'Oh, I assure you my boy, that I am quite serious.'

'Can't you just send them by owl? Why do they need special treatment again! The Golden Trio need theirs delivered personally by a professor. Can't Minerva do it? She's the brats' Head of House, for goodness sake!'

'My dear Severus, you know exactly why I simply cannot do either of those. And apart from that Mr. Potter needs his Occlumency skills trained.'

'What! Oh no! No, no, no! I've told you time and again that I will not teach Potter again. Be it Potions, Occlumency or anything else. He is hopeless and not worth it. And apart from that I have quite enough on my plate as it is. I do not have time to waste on Potter's education. May I remind you that I am supposed to brew a certain Potion of Connection. One that has not been brewed in over several centuries. One that is certainly not to bind two people in marriage!'

'I am in complete control of my memories, Severus and I cannot tell you why, but I will tell you this: Harry Potter is worth more than I am. He is worth the world.  
Now, deliver those; assess Mr Potter's Occlumency skills; give me a report and go back to your work. I shall see if I can organize another Occlumency teacher.'

Professor Severus Snape nodded and turned to leave the room.

'Oh and Severus? I think you will be disappointed if you believe in your notion that you will not be teaching Mr. Potter any more Potions.'

* * *

Snape barged into the house and left the Black matriarch screeching in order to search for Potter.

Hall - No Potter

Kitchen - No Potter

Library - No Potter

Living Room - No Potter

Right, enough, no more Mr Nice Guy.

'Granger, where is Potter?'

'I don't know, Professor?'

'Weasley?'

A shrug.

'He always disappears at three, Sir. We can't ever find him until six.'

'Potter disappears at three and does not reappear until six and no one knows where he is?'

Two affirmative nods.

'Potter!'

The screeching stopped and Potter stepped into the living room.

'Ah, Professor. Good afternoon. Got our O.W.L. results, I presume?'

'That would be correct, Potter,' Snape sneered at him, 'I have, however, also the unpleasant task of assessing your Occlumency. The Headmaster still wishes for you to have lessons, although with your hopeless dedication to the work...'

'Give it your best shot, Professor.'

Snape stared at him, his mouth still open for what he was going to say. He closed it and sneered as he saw Granger and Weasley look at Potter with confusion.

'Arrogant, aren't we, Potter?'

Potter merely looked at him.

'Very well. Legilimens.'

'Legilimens.'

'Well, Professor, I believe that I have proven my point. Thank you for bringing our results. Goodbye.'

He turned to leave the room and then seemed to remember something.

'Ah, Professor. Tonight, before you say anything, give this to Voldemort will you? And don't tell it's from me.'

Snape flinched at the name even as he reflexively caught the package Potter threw at him.


	8. VIII

At ten o'clock precisely professor Severus Snape grabbed his left forearm with a curse and a wince. The Dark Lord was summoning him. Cursing colourfully under his breath, he grabbed his black Death Eater robes and white, emotionless mask. Almost automatically he also grabbed the small package Potter had thrown at him only hours before.

He arrived as one of the last, since he had to get of the Hogwarts grounds before he could Apparate to his 'Master's' side.

'Ah, Severus, I have been waiting for you. Have you finished?'

Wordlessly the Death Eater turned spy handed the inhuman wizard Potter's package.

The creature that considered himself the most powerful wizard on earth smiled broadly, making many of his followers suppress shivers.

'I assume this is it then?'

The professor remained silent. He had absolutely no idea what was wrapped in the brown paper and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Unless it was that stupid potion he was to make for 'his Lord' he would be in serious trouble right about now.

As Snape was lost in his dark thoughts Voldemort had started unwrapping the paper. He gasped when at last a vial holding a two-coloured liquid was revealed.

'Well Severus, I must say: you have surpassed yourself. It is certainly beautiful.'

In Voldemort's hands rested a perfectly brewed Potion of Connection. The liquid bubbled and swirled as the vial was held up to be shown to the Death Eaters. The red half of the potion swirled and twisted, restlessly waiting for its grey bubbling counterpart to receive its last, most crucial ingredient.

'What part of Potter did you use, Severus? It seems quite temperamental.'

'A drop of blood, my Lord. It will provide the strongest possible connection. You will have full control over him.'

_What on earth had Potter been thinking?_

'Indeed? You'll have to tell me sometime how you managed to get hold of some of Potter's blood, Severus. I know for a fact the bumbling old fool has the boy well protected.'

'Of course, my Lord.'

_What should I say then? Potter gave it up willingly?_

'Well, I guess I'd better do my part then, hadn't I?'

Snape nodded dejectedly as the other Death Eaters murmured soft encouragements to their Lord.

Voldemort reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out his wand. With a slight grimace on his face he made a small cut in his wrist and held it over the opening in the vial. A drop of blood oozed from the pale arm and Snape watched in fascination as it fell into the potion, fearful of what it would mean for the wizarding world.

_Well, what do you know,_ a small part of his mind thought, _the bastard bleeds red after all._

The bubbles hissed and popped, replacing the grey with red. The swirls accelerated, then faded as the two colours matched each other. Voldemort the picked up the vial once more and looked at Severus.

'Bottoms up, don't you think, Severus?'

Severus nodded, not thinking clearly anymore. Potter had just about given himself willingly to the Dark Lord. Yep, that was right! Wasn't it?

Voldemort stood up from his throne.

'Well my loyal Death Eaters, this is the end of Harry Potter. Within a few hours Dumbledore's dear 'Golden Boy' will sit here in front of us all, grovelling for me. He will be entirely helpless and do anything I command him to do.'

He gulped down the potion and his eyes glazed over slightly as he looked at something none of his companions could see.

'Ah, Potter. Were you enjoying your sleep? I am terribly sorry to have disturbed you, but I'm afraid I have a request to ask of you. Surely it wouldn't be too much trouble to join me and my friends here as soon as possible? We'll be waiting.'

He smiled and focussed once again on Severus, then gazed around the room.

'Gentlemen, let's start the waiting. Sit, please.'

But before he could even lift his wand arm to conjure the seats, a form materialised next to Snape with a loud pop and took a step forward.

'You called, my Lord?'

The voice of Harry Potter was unmistakable, even from underneath the white mask he was wearing.

'Oh Potter, I must say, I like your sense of humour. Learnt to Apparate, have you?'

'Yes, my Lord.'

Snape noticed something.

'Well, enough chitchat, tell me the prophecy; skip to what I don't know.'

The monotonous voice of the sixteen-year-old echoed through the stone chamber.

'The Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he shall have a power the Dark Lord knows not. Neither can live while the other survives.' _(AN: I know the wording is not quite right, but I don't have the book handy to look it up; also some things are purposely left out)_

Snape couldn't place what he noticed in Potter's voice.

Silence fell over the chamber as Potter finished reciting the prophecy. Voldemort stared at the young man, who stared right back (well, as far as Snape could tell with both of them wearing masks).

After a minute or so, it was surprisingly Potter who broke the silence.

'Well, my Lord, if you don't need my services any longer, I shall take my leave. Oh, and I hope you don't mind if I take our resident Death Eater with me. After all, you can't be so stupid as to believe that he is totally loyal to you when he's been spending almost two decades under Dumbledore's nose, can you?'

With that the arrogant boy grabbed Snape's arm and prepared to Apparate away.

'Oh, I hope you liked my present, Tom!'

As Snape was whisked away he recognised it: Potter was having fun!


	9. IX

Yawning Harry made his way down to the kitchen. The only one there was Ginny, making toast.

'Morning Ginny. Could you be an absolute sweetheart and make me a slice too?'

Ginny had been startled when he greeted her, but now she stared at him with her mouth hanging open. Harry was facing away from her and she quickly shook herself from her stupor. She reached for a second breakfast plate, standing on her tiptoes to reach it.

'Here, let me get that.'

She turned at the sound of his voice and was instantly pressed against the cabinet as Harry reached over her to the plates.

'Thanks,' she muttered, trying to hold down her blush as she noticed he still smelled of smoke and pine.

'No prob,' Harry yawned again.

'Long night?'

'Yeah, didn't get to bed until 12.30 or so.'

'You went up around 10 though.'

'Doesn't mean I went to sleep.'

'Hmm… Guess not.'

Ginny fidgeted a little with the toast. She really wanted to talk to Harry about that night, but…

'Harry?'

'Hmm?'

'I… I'm sorry.'

That got his attention.

'Huh? What for, Ginny?'

'I… I… That night you came into my room and I… I thought you were…'

'Oh Ginny.'

Harry was instantly by her side, she hadn't even seen him move. His arms wrapped around her.

'Ginny, Ginny. Everyone has nightmares sometimes, and yours are worse than others'. Everyone craves a little attention after such nights, and they deserve it - you deserve it.'

'Th… Those things y… you said…'

'I meant every word.'

'A… And you dying?'

'Ah. Caught that, did you?'

Harry smiled ruefully into her hair.

'Don't think about that, okay, Gin? It's nothing.'

They stayed embraced for a minute longer until Harry untangled himself from her.

'I think the toast is burning, Ginny,' he whispered.

As Ginny busied herself with the toast, she was thinking.

'Harry?'

'Hmmm?'

She turned to look at him and smiled. Harry was leaning in his chair against the wall of the kitchen, his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. She noticed something strange.

'Harry, why aren't you wearing your glasses?'

'Huh? I'm not?'

Harry's hands flew to his face as his chair thumped onto four legs again.

'You're right, I'm not.'

A frown creased his brows.

'I wonder if it's because of Occlumency. I did have a rather long session last night,' he muttered. His face brightened as he looked Ginny straight in the eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.

'Guess I don't need them anymore.'

She nodded and quickly turned form his gaze. She could drown in those eyes…

They ate their toast in silence until Ginny remembered her original question.

'Harry, where do you go every day?'

'When?'

'Between three and six, we can never find you.'

'Have you ever looked?'

'Oh yes, plenty of times. Every one's given up only recently.'

'But you never thought to ask, did you?' Harry thought to himself, but he didn't show a thing.

'Caused trouble, have I?' he asked with a smile.

'Ever thought to look outside?'

Slowly Ginny nodded, her eyes widening slightly.

'All the way to the gate?'

Hesitant nod.

'Shed?'

'That's you?' Her voice was a little higher than usual.

Harry simply raised his eyebrow in question.

'I've been trying to figure out who works in that shed for ages! I thought it was Mundungus or someone!'

Harry snorted.

'I suppose it would be a good place for Dung to hide his slightly less legal dealings, wouldn't it? You could have knocked on the door, you know Gin.'

Ginny was about to answer when Ron interrupted her.

'Gin? Since when do you call my sister Gin, Harry? And why would she knock on your door?'

'Well, to answer your first question, Ron, I think I started calling your sister by her name since I've met her. And why else would she knock on my door, but to tell me that there is someone standing outside it, trying to gain attention? It's not like I can look through doors, is it now? Good morning to you too, Ron.'

With that Harry stood up and walked out the kitchen.

Ron seemed reassured, but Ginny was not happy. She knew exactly what Ron was after and suddenly had a suspicion.

'Dean Thomas,' she said loudly.

Ron flinched and the tips of his ears darkened suspiciously.

'I wonder why I haven't heard from my boyfriend lately, Ron. Perhaps he's misdirected his letters?'

She stomped out of the kitchen as Hermione looked at Ron with wide eyes.

'Ron! You didn't!'

Ron shrugged and shared a look with the twins. Hermione humphed and followed Ginny out the kitchen as he sat down and finished Harry's piece of toast.

The fireplace flared green for a moment and Snape stepped out and into the kitchen. He sneered at the three Weasley boys and moved into the doorway.

'Potter, come here this instant!'

The screeching of Mrs Black was once again cut of seconds before Harry entered the kitchen for the second time that morning.

'Good morning, Professor. How good to see you this morning.'

'Cut the pleasantries, Potter. Care to explain just what happened last night?'

Harry grinned.

'Of course, Professor. Would you like my or Voldemort's point of view.'

'Don't be insolent, boy! Don't talk rubbish.'

'Just like I was talking rubbish last year, sir, when I told dear professor Umbridge and Minister Fudge that _Voldemort_ had come back?'

He stressed the name and ignored the flinches that accompanied it.

'The Dark Lord's point of view?'

'Ah, yes. Now that I have properly educated _myself_ in the art of Occlumency, I can open and close my link with dear Tom of my own free will. In other words, I can hear, see, smell and feel exactly what he can.'

'And I am supposed to believe that?'

'See for yourself. Legilimens me.'

'What?'

'I said Legilimens me. You didn't seem to mind last year.'

'Very well. Legilimens.'

Images flitted across Snape's mind-eye. He saw himself writhing under the Cruciatus, himself explaining why the potion wasn't ready, himself standing next to Potter last night, a dark blue motorbike…

'Enough!'

Walls closed in on him, until he was standing in a circular room.

'Get out, Severus.'

He complied without thought and suddenly found himself standing in the kitchen once again, now full of Weasleys and others.

Harry's eyes were hard as he spoke.

'Next time don't go prying where I don't allow it. Understood!'

Snape nodded and sat down heavily. He couldn't quite believe what he had seen.

'But the Occlumency was so that the visions stopped.'

Oh great, Granger was in the room as well.

'No Hermione. The Occlumency stopped the visions that weren't real, not the ones that were. Those are clearer now.'

Snape had regained his composure a little and was now leaning over the table.

'Fine. We have now established that you can see what the Dark Lord sees. Now can we get back to the original question? What happened last night?'

'Well, you gave Voldemort the potion; he put his blood in it; drank it; ordered me over; I told him the prophecy and pulled us out of there.'

'Don't get clever with me, Potter. Tell me something I don't know. How did you get that potion?'

'I brewed it.'

'You went to see You-Know-Who yesterday?'

'You brewed a potion so ancient that there are but three copies of the recipe left. A potion so complex it requires a week of brewing, excluding the usual two week period of preparing the ingredients. A potion so difficult it requires a potions master to brew it correctly.'

'Yes.'

'And where exactly did you get the recipe?'

'Black Library.'

'Harry, nobody's been able to enter that room since the Department of Mysteries.'

'Right, let's say that you indeed brewed the Potion of Connection. At least you acquired some. Why on earth did you use blood for the connection?'

'Because it gives the strongest connection and set you in good light for the time being.'

'You purposely gave the Dark Lord the strongest and most dangerous connection?'

'Yes.'


	10. X

'You purposely gave the Dark Lord the strongest and most dangerous connection?'

'Yes.'

Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, was speechless. He leant back in his chair and merely stared at the son of his most hated nemesis.

'Tell me something, Professor. Did you not notice anything peculiar about the finished potion? Anything at all?'

It took a while for the Potions Master to be able to answer that question, and when he did, it wasn't a very concrete answer.

'I do not have any knowledge of the potion apart from that stated in the text from which I was supposed to brew it.'

'By the sounds of it I would take a guess that that wasn't much.'

'No, it wasn't,' conceded Snape.

'Right, let me tell you about the Potion of Connection, Professor Snape. Or better yet, why don't I go get the book, I doubt you would be willing to me telling you about a potion, when potions are your speciality. Wait a minute, please.'

Harry disappeared, leaving a kitchen full of people staring blankly at the spot he had just occupied. A second later he reappeared, carrying a very heavy book in his arms. He dumped it on the table in front of Snape and pointed his finger at it.

'Page 666, Professor.'

Still in a slight daze the professor opened the book to the correct page. A picture adorned the top of the page, showing a potion very similar to the one he had seen the Dark Lord drink just last night. The only difference was that instead of a blood red potion it was yellow and orange.

'Skip to the fourth paragraph, sir,' Harry instructed him.

Snape's long finger travelled the page vertically until it hit the beginning of the fourth paragraph, his eyes flew over the lines found there and when they reached the end the man looked up at his student. In his face lay an expression not many people had ever seen: incredulity.

'Explain,' was the curt word spoken to Harry.

However, Harry did not say a word. Instead he unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled his left sleeve up past his elbow. Wordlessly he stretched his arm and showed the inside of his elbow to his previously most hated professor.

A three inch long scar ran along the inside of his arm.

'A person has a hard time trying to control his own blood, Professor.'

* * *

Ginny knocked on the door and instantly the noises inside stopped. The door opened slightly, then wider.

'Hey Ginny,' Harry smiled tentatively.

'Hey, thought you could use some company.'

She stepped through the door as Harry held it open for her and looked around.

The room was even bigger than could be seen from the little window. One wall was hidden by bookcases filled with books and artefacts. Pushed against another wall were two desks, one covered with parchment, open books and quills. The other held a two bubbling cauldrons, ingredients and several vials, three of which were already filled with the same substance. The rest of the room was divided in two, one half of it empty, the other occupied by a blue, shining… motorbike? She looked to Harry for an explanation.

'Sirius'.' He smiled sadly, 'He gave it to Hagrid when Voldemort killed my parents. Hagrid gave it back last year, it's been standing here ever since.'

The red-haired witch nodded and tried to divert Harry's attention. She was here to cheer the boy up, not make him dwell on what could have been. His eyes followed her around the room as she explored. She thought one of the cauldrons held a Silencing Draft, but couldn't be absolutely sure. The substance in the other was unrecognisable to her, but it smelt absolutely foul, although the smell did not seem to travel past the edges of the cauldron.

Just then the lunch bell rang in the shed and the two went out to get some, before there wouldn't be anything left.

* * *

Harry sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.

'Well, Sirius, most of it's out in the open now. We don't have any more Death Eaters in Voldemort's ranks and everyone knows where I train. I'm not sure whether they realise that's what I'm doing, though. Except perhaps Ginny.'

He fell silent and looked around the room.

'You know, you really did a great job with this room. I doubt I've even found all the hidden spaces yet. I wonder what else you have hidden?'

The lonely boy fell silent again.

'They don't know it's me who has to kill him, though,' he whispered in an almost inaudible voice.

* * *

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was sitting in his office. He had just sent Severus away, after he had been given a most peculiar report. He had been told that he now did not have any spies in Voldemort's ranks, since this last one had been told on. He had also been told that Mr Harry Potter was not only an extremely powerful Occlumens, he now appeared to have mastered Legilimency also remarkable well. Then, last night, as well as finding out about his lack of Death Eater spies, he was told that it was this same Potter had in fact been the reason of his loss and that apparently he had told his tormentor the Prophecy.

The Professor clasped his hands and looked pensively at some of his possessions. More precisely, those possessions that had been broken recently in a fit of anger and hurt. The old mage sighed deeply. It had hurt him so much to see those bright green eyes of the young child responsible for this, shine with tears, tears of hurt, tears of anger, but most of all, tears of betrayal, when they looked at him. He knew he had hurt the child, but he did not know how much. Harry had seemed to still be withholding so much of his emotions. He had expected the boy to physically attack him, but when things just started exploding around him, he had been amazed. What had amazed him even more was that not a single shard had hurt him personally and all those possessions broken were those that could be easily replaced. He had seen the shards of silver and metal fly around Harry himself and cut him in a variety of places, but it was almost as if a shield had been put up around _his_ person.

The ancient man vowed that he would do what he could to repair Harry's trust in him.

* * *

Tsjak, tsjak, tsjak. Left, right, spin. The blade flashed as Harry twirled and slashed. It was an old sword Sirius had once found and hidden in his shed. Now Harry vented his anger, frustration and angst through the sword. His blows were obviously strong, even though they only met with air. Occasionally the sword met a piece of wood, causing it to swing wildly from the ceiling, making Harry having to dodge or block it. His reflexes got better each time he practised and his enhanced hearing alerted him to the swish of the wood through the air.

Harry himself was completely silent as he sidestepped and spun, occasionally dodging by Apparating almost instantaneously from one spot to another.

This went on for some time, and even when he started to breathe heavily did Harry not stop. He had broken into a sweat by the time Harry threw his sword out of the way and started kicking and hitting. He never realized that his sword followed the automatic swish of his arm and landed neatly on top of one of the bookcases.

Finally he relented. He pulled down the wooden blocks, several of which had large cracks running down the middle or pieces chopped of. After putting them away, he concentrated on one of the potions bubbling on the desk. Subconsciously he muttered a 'Come in' and waved his hand at the door when he registered a knock. He recognised the presence that entered and promptly forgot about them again, full concentration on the potion never wavering.

He stopped, satisfied with his work, and put his things away. He picked up a clean shirt and pulled his dirty one over his head. A gasp and a slight chuckle pulled him out of reverie. He turned and blushed as he identified the sources of the sounds: Professor Dumbledore and Ginny. He hurriedly pulled the shirt on, then frowned at the two.

'How did you get in? I locked the door.'

'You opened it too, Harry,' Ginny said, still fighting down her blush.

Harry had already forgotten about the incident and frowned.

'I did? Strange, I don't remember going to the door.'

Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully, but didn't comment. He then turned to Ginny.

'Thank you, Miss Weasley. I would like to speak with Mr. Potter alone, if you don't mind?'

'No, of course not, Professor. I shall leave you to it.' She smiled a last time at Harry and left, closing the door behind her.

Harry's smile faded as the two men were left alone. A serious expression took its place as his emerald green eyes, now glassless, shone with determination. Even as his gaze fell on the Headmaster, his eyes never met those twinkling from behind the half moon spectacles, but the most powerful light wizard of the century swallowed nervously at the sight.

'Professor?'


	11. XI

Dumbledore gathered his courage and spoke.

'Harry, I am afraid I have some bad news.'

Harry blinked but didn't give any other indication that he had heard the century old wizard.

'It's about Sirius' will. It is to be read in several days and as you are mentioned in it you are expected to attend.'

Silence stretched through the room as Dumbledore waited for Harry to give any indication that he was heard. Finally he just continued speaking.

'I am sorry, Harry, but I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to leave the building. Even with an Order escort it will be too dangerous. Especially since Mrs Malfoy is also expected to attend and this means that it is likely that Voldemort will know you are in a vulnerable position.'

Dumbledore sighed and stood up.

'I am sorry that you will not be able to claim your inheritance, Harry. But it is truly for your own good. I will speak with you again shortly. Good day.'

With that Dumbledore left the shed and closed the door behind him. Inside Harry sat in silence, glistening tears running down his cheeks.

* * *

_Dear Sirius,_

_I know this will never reach you, but it is easier for me to write these things down as if communicating with you than it is writing it to myself. _

_I am sorry, Sirius. I am sorry for having taken your life away from you. You had lost so many years whilst in Azkaban due to me, and now you don't have any time to catch up on those lost years, because of me. Again. I cannot forgive myself._

_I miss you, Sirius. More than you can imagine. It does not help that I have no one left to live for here, in this world. All of you are in the 'next great adventure' as the Bumblebee always calls it. However, I cannot join you yet, there are so many innocents in this world that I have to protect. I do not know if you know, if Dumbledore ever told you, mum and dad, or if you have found it out now that you are There, but it is up to me to save the world from Voldemort. I am the only one, I truly am the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World'. I wish it were not so, but I have accepted it now, and am training on my own. I do not know what 'the Power He Knows Not' is, but I do not think that I have a power that Voldemort knows nothing about. The bloody man has 50+ years on me! He has studied so much in those years that he disappeared, how can I ever find a power that he doesn't know and gain enough knowledge and confidence in it to defeat him? I am but 16 years old._

_Ah, but there you have it, don't you? I am but a boy, a child. However, doesn't a child have a childhood to remember? I don't. I never had the chance to have a childhood. That chance was taken away from me on 31 October 1981. That fateful Hallowe'en. Ha! Fateful has a whole new meaning to me now. Fate has indeed decided my future. To kill or be killed. That's what the Prophecy says. 'Neither can live while the other survives.' Well, it's right, I never have truly lived, and Voldemort was less than a spirit these last years. However, living when Voldemort is dead? I don't think so. I doubt I can kill the bastard, let alone live to tell the tale. But, I will try. For you, for mum, dad, Cedric, for all those innocents with you who were killed._

_I will see you soon, Sirius, and hopefully I'll be bringing the bastard with me._

_Love you always,_

_Your godson,_

_Harry James Potter

* * *

_

_Dear All,_

_I am sorry, but I feel that I must leave you to your own devices for a while, without my 'invaluable' help, which I am sure you will find very difficult. However, I am sure that you will manage._

_I was contacted last night by Gringotts, asking me why I was not present at the reading of Sirius' will. They also informed me what I would be missing if I didn't claim my inheritance, and that I could do so by owl. I'm afraid that certain individuals neglected to tell me this and as such I have claimed my inheritance. However, now that I have several, shall we say, 'responsibilities', I have taken my life into my own hands. It would do well for certain people to remember what actions led to my receiving this inheritance in the first place, and I am not referring to my own part in it. He who I am talking about knows what I mean; I will not spell it out. _

_You will not find me, I will be safe._

_Until September 1st,_

_Harry James Potter

* * *

_

Several days after Harry and Dumbledore's 'talk' (or Dumbledore talking to Harry, as the case was) Grimmauld Place was in uproar. Harry had disappeared. All his possessions, including Hedwig, were gone as well, and a letter on his bedside cabinet proved that he wouldn't be returning of his own accord any time soon.

Since the day he left, Harry had travelled far. His first stop was Gringotts, where he claimed his inheritance, contrary to what he had hinted at in the letter. It was true, he could have claimed it by owl, but since Dumbledore specifically told him he was not to claim his inheritance by going to Gringotts, he decided to be childish and spite the man.

'Evening Griphook. I would like to see manager Greytooth, please.'

The goblin looked up at him in shock, but then quickly bowed and gestured for him to follow. Harry followed the goblin through several corridors until they came to a plain grey door. Griphook knocked and answered the call from within, signalling Harry to stay in the corridor.

Not a minute later the door opened again and the 16-year-old wizard was ushered into the office.

In the office several exchanges of signatures took place and then Greytooth handed several thick folders to the young newly emancipated wizard.


End file.
